


A plastic and cardboard affair

by chaoticdean, Hardsquare



Series: Suptober 2020 [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M, Suptober 2020 (Supernatural), The Earth is dying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:41:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26779039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticdean/pseuds/chaoticdean, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hardsquare/pseuds/Hardsquare
Summary: Suptober 2020, Day 2: Earth.In which Castiel suddenly becomes hyperaware of the looming environmental catastrophe ahead and decides to start changing things in the bunker, and Dean... Well, Dean is sleepy, AND HE JUST WANTS TO CUDDLE.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Suptober 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949341
Comments: 10
Kudos: 84





	A plastic and cardboard affair

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, this plot is 100% [Camille](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/Hardsquare)'s doing, because she's hilarious.

It’s not a secret that Dean Winchester is a grumpy bastard until he gets through at least two cups of coffee in the morning. One would argue that he’d gotten better at being a tiny bit more sufferable in the morning ever since Cas and him had figured out whatever the hell they had struggled to figure out for the past decade, and the former-angel had now secured a permanent spot beside Dean on the memory foam mattress in Room 11.

That being said, Dean was still pretty much unable to articulate any sort of coherent thoughts before caffeine kicked in, and this morning was absolutely no exception. Especially considering the fact that he woke up to a cold and empty bed, which was Dean’s very definition of Hell on Earth these days.

He enters the bunker’s kitchen with a groan, only to find Cas behind the counter, busy doing god knows what that weirdo thought was more important to do than cuddling with his boyfriend in bed on a Sunday morning.

Dean makes his way to the counter and wraps both of his arms around Cas’ waist,the cotton blend of the shirt he’s wearing (Dean’s shirt, as a matter of fact, not that Dean’s still keeping track of how many of his shirts have made it to Cas’ side of the closet, thank you very much) soft underneath his fingers, pressing his chest against the former angel’s back and resting his cheek against the space between Cas’ shoulder blades.

“Hello Dean,” Cas says, one hand softly brushing the skin of his arm, “why are you up? It’s still early.”

“I woke up and you weren’t there,” Dean answers, his voice still groggy with sleep.

“Ah,” Cas nods, turning his head to try and get a glimpse of the hunter, “I woke up at 6 and I needed to stretch my legs. Didn’t want to wake you up so early, you came back pretty late last night.”

Sam and Dean were in Illinois for the most part of this past week, hunting a ghoul. The hunt was supposed to be a simple salt and burn, but as usual, what appeared to be a regular hunt turned into a 5 days mess. When they got back to the bunker it was already close to 2 am, and Dean was so tired after driving all the way from Springfield to Lebanon that all he did was crawl into bed, press his body onto Cas’ back, and dozed off to sleep in barely 2 minutes.

“Missed you,” Dean breathes against Cas’ neck, tightening his grip around his waist.

“I missed you too, Dean.”

Dean hums in content, closing his eyes for a minute, and enjoying the warmth of Cas’ body against him, bathing into his scent. Being away proved to be even more difficult ever since they finally decided to give that weird rampant thing between them a shot.

"Whatcha doing here?”

Dean works his chin up to Cas’ shoulder, his cheek deliberately pressed against the side of Cas’ neck, where it’s warm and inviting and smells like sleep. The hunter can’t resist and drops a kiss where Cas’ shoulder meets his neck, the skin soft and delicious.

“I watched that documentary last night,” Cas starts but stops to hum in contempt as Dean peppers kisses along his neck, “about climate change, and Earth basically dying, and what we could do on our small human scale to at least try and slow it down.”

“Uh-uh. Is that why you’re buried into our garbage bags at 7 on a Sunday morning?”

“I realized we weren’t even properly recycling,” Cas explains, Dean still too groggy to move and following his movements like a rag doll, “and so I thought that we…”

Dean dozes off after roughly a minute of listening to Cas explaining how recycling is so important for the planet, and how just splitting up regular waste from plastic and cardboard could help. Instead, he just rests his head against the skin of Cas’ shoulder, left bare by his shirt hanging low on his collarbones, watching Cas’ speak agitatedly.

If Dean’s being honest with himself, he always thought that Cas was pretty, from the very beginning. Those cobalt blue eyes staring at him across that barn in South Dakota like they could see right through him (well, retrospectively speaking, he probably could) the first time they meet were permanently engraved inside Dean’s soul, no matter how much time it took him to actually admit it to himself.

But ever since Cas became human and (finally) decided to ditch his usual trench coat and stiff suit combo, started to wear jeans that actually hugged him in all the right places and shirts that made his broad shoulder and musculature visible at all time, it’s been a rollercoaster for Dean’s blood pressure and a trip to the city of sins with no hope to ever return.

Dean doesn’t think Cas looks pretty anymore. No, he looks super annoyingly _gorgeous_.

And this morning, his dark hair completely disheveled, his 5 o’clock shadow and Dean’s shirt exposing the tan skin of his shoulder are making Dean’s mind even more slow to process anything remotely important.

_God, I can’t believe I tap th—_

“You’re not listening to me, are you?” Cas asks, turning his head just enough to take sight of Dean.

_Uh-oh. Now might be a great time to abort the mission, Winchester._

“Dean, Earth is dying,” Cas scowls, moving away to grab another bag and visibly annoyed at him, “you should be as concerned as I am!”

“Babe, I _am_ concerned,” Dean pleads, retreating to the counter to grab the (thankfully full) coffee pot, “I’m just tired and I wanted a freaking cuddle this morning, not having to wander to the kitchen to find my boyfriend diving into our garbage bags!”

Cas just glares at him, ditching a handful of cardboard packaging into a new bag, and itdoes feels like an “I can’t fucking believe you right now Dean” bitchface that only Sam Winchester usually manages to throw at him.

_Troubles, troubles, troubles…_

“Don’t look at me like that!” Dean pleads, both hands raise as he sits at the table in disbelief.

“The _Earth_ is dying and you want to _cuddle_.”

“Well, I _am_ a simple man, Cas.”

“Yeah, well,” Cas raises an eyebrow at him, a sudden look of defiance painted on his face that makes Dean’s heart rate suddenly raise, “if you don’t start making sure the cardboard and plastic packaging don’t get mixed up with the rest, we’re definitely not having sex anymore.”

“WHAT?!”

“THE PLANET IS DYING DEAN!”

“Are you out of your mind?!”

Dean practically strangles Sam the following morning when he throws the cardboard packaging of his cereals into the bin without looking.

Cas just sits there, sipping his coffee, a look of profound pride on his face, and a definite smugness dancing in his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> _  
>  **rebloggable on[Tumblr](https://chaoticdean.tumblr.com/post/630896629010055168/a-plastic-and-cardboard-affair)**   
>  _


End file.
